She's a high powered [insert profession that middle America conceives as "high powered"] who's been unlucky in love. She's dating a man in her same profession, likely at the same firm/hospital/foundation at which she works. The match is one of convenience. She's not really fulfilled, but fuck it, he's good looking as all get out.
The plot contrivance includes a situation where this polished professional woman needs the assistance of this grubby, unkempt ne'er do well. He's nothing like the man in her life. He infuriates her. She wants nothing to do with him. The sooner she's done dealing with him the better.
But they keep running into one another. Seems he's the only guy who can do what she needs done. He's like a genius in his field. The one time he runs into her guy, her guy takes an immediate dislike to him and berates his lack of education and panache in an aside to her. But that doesn't abate her growing fascination with this grubby interloper.
She's at a society function at an art gallery. Who shows up? Mr. Grubby himself. It turns out he's the hot artist that they're featuring. It also turns out that he's just doing whatever gig he's doing to support his painting. He has a degree from HARVARD (it's always an Ivy League degree) in law/finance/cunnilingus but he doesn't want to do that professionally, it would take away from his art.
Mr. Grubby has a soul and smarts. It's just what she's been missing and she starts to fall for him.
Mr. Polished, her dude finds out and starts looking for dirt on Mr. Grubby.
He finds the dirt and yells it out the secret when he finds them together in a public place, probably waving around the papers with proof of the dirt on them. Mr. Grubby punches Mr. Polished. He falls into a body of water and Mr. Grubby stalks off, leaving her behind confused and upset.
She has a crisis of conscience. Upset by the dirt that was revealed, she doesn't want to believe it's true. She finds Mr. Grubby at his artist's studio getting ready for his next showing. He confirms the dirt is true and tells her to move on and be happy with Mr. Polished. She reluctantly does so.
When she's ready to take that big step and settle for life with a handsome, rich, basically decent dude, Mr. Grubby shows up, does some sort of asshole move and steals her away from Mr. Polished. They kiss. The end.
I just wrote down the synopsis of every romantic comedy ever written. I don't ever want to see one again. Women, don't let them shove this shit down your throats again. Rebel. Stop going. Make them treat you better. The writers of these movies are the proverbial "Mr. Polished". Check out "Mr. Grubby" and see if he doesn't suit you better. This bullshit has got to cease.